Boy With The Sleeve Tattoo
by ElektraCane
Summary: "They like staring at me because I'm new. They haven't seen someone like me before. I'm not cookie cutter pretty, or a Stepford Husband in training. I'm merely a guy trying to get his life back on track after doing something terrible when I was younger. I can't convince the world I'm good, but she thinks that I am. And what she knows about me, nothing but a lie." AH/AU Stefonnie.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone. If you're reading this and have read the first two chapters of my Bamon story, Curious Mortal, I do apologize its been so long since I've updated. Life got in the way, and then my muse kind of died a premature death on me. I have this new story that's been buzzing in my head that I want to share, and since I have a thing for guys with tattoos, I decided to use that as inspiration. Read on, and thanks in advance.**

**Title: **Boy with the Sleeve Tattoo

**Rating: **M and MA in later chapters

_**Cast of Players:**_

_**Bonnie Bennett—Kat Graham**_

_**Stefan Salvatore—Paul Wesley**_

_**Damon Salvatore—Ian Somerhalder**_

_**Caroline Forbes—Candice Accola**_

_**Kira Yukimara—Arden Cho**_

_**Hiro Yukimara—Daniel Henney**_

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respective owners, LJ Smith/CW/Jeff Davis. All Original Characters are my creations and any resemblance to living individuals is purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_You know what this isn't? This isn't a sob story designed to get you to like me. I could care less if you do or not. I'm not doing this to make friends, or even to give you a version of events that all culminate into a police chase, willful destruction of city property, and the good guy saving the girl. So why the hell am I writing for then, you might wonder. Good question. I guess you could argue this is my alibi. When you're accused of a crime it's always good to have one. And a lawyer. Don't admit to anything without a lawyer, and I don't need to be a lawyer to tell you that. Okay, time for me to quit screwing around. This is just my therapist cheap ass way to spy on me. To make sure I stay on the straight and narrow, that I don't have another…episode. But it's hard not to have one when you're surrounded by a bunch of idiots—Stefan Salvatore_

* * *

**Balmy Friday Night in Virginia—August 2013**

The pavement broke his fall. The force of the velocity used to put him there would explain his bruises in the morning. Spitting out a biological concoction of blood, saliva—where those shards of teeth?—Stefan rolled his head against the bumpy and rocky asphalt and begged the world to stop spinning. He didn't have time to add on "please" as he saw a men's size twelve boot headed right for his abdomen.

Stefan grabbed the man's leg, sat up with a grunt, made a fist and jabbed it right in the family jewels. He was sure the prick felt his ball sack climb through his body and found its new lodgings in his throat.

The crowd which assembled to watch the massacre winced, "oohed", and men cupped themselves feeling second-hand pain from witnessing the hit.

The man who stood poised over Stefan bit into his lower lip, face turning an interesting shade of pink and red while the bottom of his eyes lined with tears. He teetered dangerously and fell to the ground, his shoulder taking the brunt of his fall.

"All right, that's enough! Break it up! Walk!" yet another man shoved his way through the crowd to get to the scandalous-filled center.

By the time he made it two men were on the ground, one holding himself tightly between the legs, the other, studying his enflamed and swollen knuckles. He held out a hand to the obvious victor of the fight.

Stefan ran his tongue over his teeth, wiped blood from his nose, and finally accepted the proffered hand to which he was hoisted to his feet. He braced his hands on his knees and took in much needed gulps of air, but his head still didn't feel connected to the rest of him, almost like a phantom decapitation. Fire and sharp pin pricks of pain shot off in his back, ass, and his neck. His hand wouldn't stop trembling. He could use another drink but since he's already violated the major terms of his probation just by being in this area of town, Stefan was asking to get locked up again.

"Thanks," he coughed and attempted to stand to his full height, just for a wave of nausea to hit and nearly plant him on his ass once more.

The robust bouncer nodded and clapped Stefan on the back, which almost made the teen's knees buckle. The bouncer knew he was a good kid and didn't typically go out looking for trouble. Trouble had a way of finding you the second you were put in the system.

"Go home and sleep this off, Stefan. You've barely been out two weeks."

Smiling then, Stefan held his head high and inadvertently swallowed the blood that leaked from his nasal cavity. He tried not to grimace. "I was long overdue for a welcome back party. Wouldn't you say, Verone?"

Verone, a thirty year old Samoan who could easily be Dewayne Johnson's little brother, crossed his massive arms over his too tight T-shirt covered chest. He replied, "No, I would not say. If anything I would say you were trying to get locked up on purpose because you're too chicken shit to face reality. Go home, Stefan. This place is for losers with no hope."

"So why are you here?"

"To make sure they don't take someone down to rock bottom with them. You got a plane to catch so I suggest you make tracks to that depressing as fuck halfway house before Maryanne sics the cops on you."

Dark eyebrows lifted and Stefan nodded. "Will do. Guess this is goodbye."

"For your sake," Verone walked over to Stefan's opponent who still wailed around on the ground and snatched him up, "I hope it's permanent."

The parking lot cleared as fast as it had become populated. Stefan took his final look of the place a convict like him referred to as home, a safe haven. He'd miss Crawfish Bar, Verone, and maybe even that eighty year old hag who came in every night and ordered wine—the only person to do that, two glasses; one for her and one for her deceased husband and would proceed to drink neither.

A waste of good liquor and money, in his humble opinion. But then Stefan had a sneaky suspicion BJ, the owner, probably switched the wine with grape juice. He didn't mind corrupting the youth, but he drew the line at corrupting the elderly.

Stefan cut his losses and made tracks.

A couple of minutes later, he parked Maryanne's 1999 Camry in her driveway that was overrun with weeds growing through the cracks. The halfway house was a Victorian residence that needed a serious paint job. Merely touching the siding could probably give someone lead poisoning. As terrible as it looked on the outside, Maryanne kept it spotless on the inside; and every day at the ass crack of dawn, everyone living under her roof had to get up and do their portion of the chores.

Stefan certainly wouldn't miss scrubbing toilets, floors, or scraping burned food out of the oven.

Maryanne claimed rigorous housework built character and pride. Stefan thought of it as her having ten maids and manservants at her disposal, free labor twenty-four/seven. Maryanne wasn't bad. She was strict, but she created a culture of respect that if you wanted it, you had to show it, earn it.

He slid his key in the lock for the final time. Once opening the door, he tried to do that carefully so the hinges wouldn't tell on him. They squeaked noisily and he halted, froze in his tracks.

Light from the television illuminated the living room. He tried to discern if Maryanne was snoring or laughing because if it were the latter he was cold busted, and would be in for a major lecture, and his bloodstream and internal organs were screaming for pharmaceutical relief.

When Maryanne didn't bellow: "Who the hell is that sneaking into my house?" Stefan felt it was safe to proceed.

He quickly placed her keys back in the cookie jar she kept on the top shelf in the cabinets over the refrigerator. An extreme place to keep them, but she didn't trust to leave them in her purse.

Walking through the kitchen to the basement, Stefan stopped, and snatched a bottle of water, and then took the steps two at a time and hooked a right.

There were three rooms that had been converted into bedrooms in the halfway house. Stefan entered his, locked the door, and then went into his tiny bathroom after removing his shirt.

He twisted to the side and winced as he saw a colorful display taking shape on his right shoulder. Opening the medicine cabinet, Stefan fished out some aspirin, dumped two powder white pills in the palm of his hand and tossed them to the very back of throat, and quickly chased it with a huge gulp of water.

Stefan studied his face. Thought about his life. Eighteen years, that's how long he's been on the planet. Going nowhere fast. Lived through hell. Was about to start dealing with the aftermath. He leaned in closer and wondered if any remnants of that soulless monster who couldn't get enough, and didn't stop, not until brain matter exploded everywhere still resided within him.

He shut his eyes at the vivid imagery and when he opened them again, Stefan was staring at the litany of tattoos covering his entire right arm from deltoid to wrist. Each one intricate, personal, and painful to get.

Wondered what the wholesome people of that small town he was being shipped off to would feel about that. How would they feel about an inmate from a psychiatric facility entering their ranks?

* * *

**Eight weeks into Fall Semester—2013**

Her dream was fading and she didn't want it to end. Hands touching her in intimate places, lips kissing her, and a man with the greenest eyes she had ever seen staring down at her. In her mind she only saw disjointed pieces of him, not enough to reconstruct a composite.

Unconsciousness still lingered, but she was cognizant enough to pout that her dream was ending right at the good stuff. She wanted to kiss him some more. Wanted to feel him…everywhere! But alas her dreams very rarely turned explicit and it seemed things would carry on in that tradition. Trying to fight wakefulness with all that she had, Bonnie Bennett rolled over, taking her sheets and comforter with her, and finally surrendered to alertness.

She had awakened between two of her favorite men: Tom Hardy and Lance Gross. Green eyes fluttered in appreciation as Lance stood topless clutching a football. It was the movie poster for his film _The Last Fall._ Tom on the other hand stared down at Bonnie in profile, numerous tattoos on display. She loved muscles but what she especially loved was tattoos.

The seventeen year old had brokered a deal with her dear, sweet dad that as soon as she turned eighteen she was getting some ink. Like Bonnie expected, her father hit the roof, was livid she'd want to desecrate her flawless skin by burning permanent ink into her flesh. So Bonnie negotiated that she would pay for the tattoo and would carefully do her research on which tattoo shop had the highest, not only in customer satisfaction ratings, but cleanliness. Rudy Hopkins conceded and agreed though he grumbled under his breath the whole time.

"Just twenty-nine more days," she whispered to herself and kicked her covers off.

After using the bathroom Bonnie checked her Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, and Facebook to see if anything happened with her favorite celebrities, or best friends overnight. A tweet from Caroline Forbes—her spirit animal caught her attention.

_New student today. Male. Hope he's hawt!_

Laughing, Bonnie favored her tweet and added, _Fingers crossed he at least brushes his teeth twice a day._

Bonnie dragged her feet to the bathroom to officially get her day started.

She turned on the shower and let the water heat up and while it did, she washed her face, applied moisturizer, and then slapped a clear shower cap on her head. It had become ritual at this point for her to stare at the picture she had wedged between her countertop and mirror. A picture taken six months ago with her best girl friends: Caroline, Kira, and Elena.

The first two were still here. Elena was not. The pain of her unexpected death still tore Bonnie's heart to pieces, but she held on to the belief that Elena was in a better place. Though some with a religious background might argue against that considering Elena committed suicide.

It took her dying for the truth about what Elena had been going through to come out. No one knew, never even suspected she suffered from bipolar disorder. Everyone knew she could get emotional, erratic, and sometimes deeply irrational at times, but those had been rare occurrences. When she was officially diagnosed only her parents knew, but the minute Elena's body was in the ground, the Gilbert's packed up their home and took their surviving child Jeremy with them, and left Mystic Falls in the middle of the night.

Smiling sadly at the photo of them standing in the vast Lockwood backyard for one of the many Founder's events dressed in their finery, Bonnie said, "Miss you Lena."

Things were going to be different, Bonnie vowed. She would strive to be a better friend to her friends, she would call more, keep in contact more, and she didn't want to graduate with any regrets. Now, if she happened to hitch herself a boyfriend during her crusade then all the better. But, getting into a good college, keeping her grades up, and staying out of trouble Bonnie knew those were the most important things to focus on.

She entered the shower and screeched bloody murder. Her dad used up all the hot water—_again! _

::::

"Rise and shine, sweetness. Get your ass up. You have school," Damon Salvatore threw open the dark curtains that kept sunlight out and darkness locked in.

Stefan groaned and covered his face while giving his annoying older brother the middle finger. He had been having the best sex dream of his life with some chick he had never seen before, and even right now his chubby was making its presence known by throbbing against his thigh. He turned away from the sound of Damon's voice so he wouldn't see and then proceed to rag on him about it.

"Go away," Stefan mumbled and felt the bed dip.

"What kind of a guardian would I be if I let you skip your first day of school? I don't want the courts on my dick because you want to maximize on your beauty sleep. Up," Damon hitched his thumb in the air and pointed to the ceiling. "You have twenty minutes before I drag your sorry ass out of bed. Move!"

"You need to work on your bedside manner, asshole," Stefan tossed the sheet off his face and glared at Damon who smiled charmingly at him.

"Being one has proven to be the most effective to get the results I need," Damon got his feet then and smooth a hand down his black Oxford. "In the shower, then downstairs for breakfast. Luanne cooked," he winked.

Confused, Stefan scratched at the stubble on his face. He'd have to shave. "Who's Luanne?"

"Someone I picked up at a bar last night. She was sweet enough to throw something together. Think she's vying for girlfriend status, but it's only been one night."

"Hmm, I forgot what a romantic you are, Damon."

"I have my moments. Quit stalling. I have to be at work in an hour."

Stefan closed his eyes. He was already living with the brother he could barely stand on a good day, but also having to attend the school where his brother taught was another kind of humiliation and punishment within itself.

Yet it was unavoidable since it was part of the terms of his probation and reinstatement into society.

Arriving in Mystic Falls three days ago, Stefan had kept a low profile because he knew how people in small towns could be. They ran their mouths a lot because hardly anything interesting ever happened. He figured by now his arrival in town was front page news, and that made him groan. He didn't want to be examined like a bug under a microscope, and he certainly didn't want to go through any sibling comparisons. Damon was older than him by seven years, but could still behave as if he were a teenager, or worse a preteen.

Nevertheless, the terms of his probation were set and were law and Stefan had no choice but to obey. Go to school every day, no fights, no suspensions, keep his grades up, and attend group and private therapy sessions weekly. He also had to take his medication and go in once a month for drug testing, and start his community service.

"Here," Damon tossed a set of keys at his younger brother who caught them. "Figured you wouldn't want me to drive you to school, nor do I want to play chauffer."

"Are these the keys to Uncle Zach's Porsche?"

Damon nodded and made his way to the door. "You scratch the paint or destroy the transmission it'll be on you to get it fixed. Given anymore thought about getting a job or joining some clubs or something?"

The face Stefan made at the latter question almost elicited a laugh from Damon. Almost.

Rising from the bed, Stefan stretched his arms over his head. Out of his peripheral he saw Damon staring at his right arm, the one littered in tattoos. "You really think anyone is going to hire me especially once they hear what I've done?"

Damon knew it was true. He knew hardly anyone would feel safe around Stefan after finding out about his past. Though Stefan had only been twelve when it happened, when one decision, one lapse into insanity changed his life. He tried not to shiver just thinking about it. Stefan was his brother and he'd do what he could to protect him, but Damon already knew it wouldn't be necessary.

"You won't know until you try. Your social worker, PO, and psychiatrist think it'll be good for you to enshrine yourself in society."

"Yeah?" Stefan voiced skeptically. "And what if society doesn't want to have anything to do with a sociopath? Have any of you ever thought about that?"

"Stefan, you're far from a sociopath. You were young…"

"Don't make excuses for me, Damon. I know what I am. It says it all right here," he pointed to his tattoos. "Why don't you go check on Luanne to make sure she hasn't made off with any of your valuables. You've always had shitty taste in women."

Damon laughed, and barked, "Bastard. Don't forget to take your stabilizers. Oh, and have a good day at school. Make a friend," he closed the room door after his exit.

Make a friend? Stefan snorted. He'd probably have more luck robbing a bank in daylight.

::::

Her day was starting off terribly, Bonnie mused as she gnawed her thumbnail and wondered why Principal Greenberg had summoned her to his office. She thought over her conduct and couldn't think of anything she had done wrong lately. She hadn't cheated on any of her tests, quizzes, or homework assignments. She may been tardy a couple of times for biology but could she really be blamed for that considering her biology teacher, Dr. Wes Maxfield, was a total weirdo with a capital W. Maybe she had been caught giving her Current Events teacher Mr. Damon I-Want-To-See-You-Naked Salvatore flirty looks, but really he'd have to suspend at least half of the female student population for that infarction.

Or maybe he called her to his office because that troll Mia Lambert tattled that her spotters hadn't done their job in catching her during cheerleading practice, and as a result she sprained her ankle. Bonnie would never admit to missing her count on purpose—though she did because Mia thought she was the star of the show and never let anyone forget it. However, Coach would have been the one to call her in, not the principal unless the Lamberts were screaming lawsuit.

Shifting nervously in her chair, Bonnie eyed the secretary Mrs. Barnes, and her heart jolted into overdrive the minute Principal Greenberg threw open the door to his office, and motioned with two fingers for Bonnie to come inside.

"I'll see you now, Bonnie."

Grabbing her messenger bag, Bonnie crossed over the office and slipped inside Principal Greenberg's space which was nothing short of a shrine to the University of Tennessee.

She sat down in the creaking leather chair and waited.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I had you pulled from class to come to my office," Principal Greenberg stated while rearranging a stack of papers on his desk. "Your Leeds-Meyers test results came back."

"Okay," Bonnie's throat was drying up and she told herself not to pass out, to stay calm.

The Leeds-Meyers examination was yet another institutionalized form of racism pitting students from different socioeconomic backgrounds—meaning poor versus rich in southern Virginia to see who was better. Education still had a tendency to act under the separate but equal premise. The test had little to do with getting into a good college, but if one scored high enough you might quality for a lucrative scholarship.

Bonnie began to wonder if she had done so horribly that the principal was taking time out of his busy schedule to yell at her for making Mystic Falls High look bad.

"Why don't you take a look at this," he stretched out a lone sheet of paper towards Bonnie who accepted it with a trembling hand.

Bonnie read over her results, saw the numbers, and the final score and wondered why there wasn't a negative sign beside it. When she flicked her gaze to Principal Greenberg he could hardly wipe the Cheshire cat-like grin off his pallid face.

"I scored a two seventy-five?" she meant to form that as a statement not a question. The highest a student could score was 280 points.

"You did, which means you qualify for the…"

"The Alderman Scholarship," Bonnie finished dazedly. This all had to be a mistake. Some kind of miscalculation because she was a C student, maybe even B- depending on the semester.

"Congratulations!"

Principal Greenberg's jubilation startled Bonnie and she tried to cover it up with a smile she didn't feel.

"I always knew you were gifted and the proof is right there in your hands. Next week the Chairperson of the Leeds-Meyers board will be here to award you with a certificate, and make the announcement you are in the running for a ten thousand dollar annual scholarship. Your hard work has certainly paid off, Bonnie and I can't think of a better person more deserving. Now…"

The rest of the principal's words began to trail off and run together in Bonnie's head. She was shocked to say the least and totally blindsided. All along she knew she was smart. This school was for the gifted though it wasn't exactly a privately run school. But, Bonnie never ever felt she truly belonged here. Whatever she tried to do she was good at but hardly ever the best. Maybe her results were mixed up with one of the top tier students. That could explain this because things like this never happened to her.

Fifteen minutes later she was dismissed with a vigorous handshake from Principal Greenberg, and a promise he would personally tell her dad of her achievement.

Needing a moment to clear her head, Bonnie trekked across the parking lot and stopped when she heard the distinct engine of a restored 1960 Porsche. Her dad was a car junkie and turned her into one, too.

She wasn't given much time to admire it as it burned up the asphalt once it turned into the parking lot and flew down the aisle she happened to be standing in. Bonnie screeched and jumped out of the way or her toes would have been clipped.

She shot murderous daggers at the driver she didn't get a good look at. "This is a parking lot! Not a drag strip! Watch your speed!" she complained and shook her head and continued to march toward her car.

Stefan heard someone yelling but couldn't exactly make out the person's words since he was singing along to Bon Jovi. He circled the parking lot and found a space next to a silver-bluish Prius.

He cut the engine at the same time the owner of the Prius unlocked its doors with the automatic remote.

Stefan slid his shades down until they rested on the tip of his nose and admired the curvy little thing through his side view mirror. He didn't exit his vehicle, instead opted to watch as the girl foraged for something in her car, her ass in his face.

"Nice," slipped out before he could stop himself and he must have said it loud enough because the girl whirled around and looked ready to knock his head clean off his shoulders.

"Ex_cuse _me?" she demanded.

Instead of answering, Stefan rolled up the window, snapped the keys out of the ignition, grabbed his notebook, and got out of the car.

Once his feet was planted on the asphalt he smirked as he towered over the cute African American girl with a pair of apple green eyes, crooked mouth, oval shaped face, and a nest of curly dark brown hair. She smelled like cherry blossoms and the top of her head barely came to his shoulders.

"Nothing," Stefan slid his shades up to the bridge of his nose. "Where's the front office?"

Hello to you, too Bonnie inwardly snarled, and then pointed over her shoulder. "It's back that way."

"Thanks," Stefan cocked a smile that usually granted him getting his way; however, by the hostile look streaming from the girl's eyes, she wasn't exactly falling for it. He walked off, leather jacket on, notebook in hand, and stuffed his ink pen behind his ear.

Bonnie turned to watch him leave. There was no question he was the new male real estate Caroline had tweeted about. His attitude rubbed her the wrong way, but Bonnie couldn't deny his eyes were the _exact _color of the eyes of the guy in her dream this morning.

And…he was fucking hot! A massacre was surely to follow. Blood would be spilled. Friendships tested. It would definitely be every woman for herself, Bonnie predicted, but she wouldn't fall victim to anything.

Chapter end.

**A/N: So how do we like? I'm being purposely vague on what exactly Stefan did and his tattoo. I want to research some designs to see what I think would be good for him. And Stefonnie kind of hit it off on a rough patch. How will things progress we'll see. I won't be following any of the storylines from the show since this is AH/AU, and you'll see crossover characters from some of my favorite shows pop up during this story. Okay, I've talked enough. Thank you so much for reading and any feedback you give will be deeply appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it's taken a month of me to update. I do appreciate every single one of you that's given this story a chance and for adding to your lists, and for leaving me a review! Answers about Stefan's past will be trickled throughout the chapters. This update is a continuation of the first chapter. Enjoy! **

**Title: **Boy with the Sleeve Tattoo

**Rating: **M and MA in later chapters

_**Cast of Players:**_

_**Bonnie Bennett—Kat Graham**_

_**Stefan Salvatore—Paul Wesley**_

_**Damon Salvatore—Ian Somerhalder**_

_**Caroline Forbes—Candice Accola**_

_**Kira Yukimara—Arden Cho**_

_**Hiro Yukimara—Daniel Henney**_

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respective owners, LJ Smith/CW/Jeff Davis. All Original Characters are my creations and any resemblance to living individuals is purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Life doesn't come with a nice shiny bow on top unless of course you're the heir of a money laundering family that owns several houses on different continents and vacations in Nice, France because it's nice. Life can be hard, difficult, cruel, unfair, but I don't need to tell you that. You're smart. You already know. Something's in life are about common sense, but for whatever reason people, and I can't exclude myself from this, choose to do things that are irrational or hurt other people. My sins run deep and I'll always carry them with me. Hopefully one day I'll be able to really let it all go—Stefan Salvatore

* * *

If there was one thing Stefan had perfected within the last six years was his attentive look. He could give off the impression that he was paying rapt attention to whomever was speaking but mentally he was miles away. Usually this happened during his group therapy sessions when he was inmate number 230511, and he'd fool the doctors who circled the room like sharks that he was absorbing all the information being thrown at him, when really he counted down the days to his parole hearing.

He performed that particular skill now as Principal Greenberg introduced him to Mystic Falls High—somewhat wearily. What the good principal had been told, Stefan was there as part of a release program. Since he had been a minor at the time he committed the most egregious offense one could commit, details had been fleeting considering Stefan's records had been sealed. No one could access them, not even the award-winning principal who, even now tried to think of what Stefan did to land himself in a psychiatric forensic detention center.

Only two possibilities stood out to Principal Greenberg: rape and murder. If the boy had been convicted with both or even one of those offenses then who in the hell let him back out into society?

"I'm going to be real blunt with you, Stefan," Principal Greenberg narrowed his left eye, "I don't trust you. I don't agree with you being here…but someone saw something in you worth giving you a second chance so I'm going to strive to do the same. However, if I hear or see _anything _that may endanger my students I will have you pulled out of here so fast the devil will take notes. Do I make myself clear, son?"

"Crystal," Stefan nodded his head though he laughed on the inside. He had been threatened by the best of them, and this bean pole of a man certainly didn't have him shaking in his Durango boots. "We done? I'd like to get my day started if that's all right with you…sir," the young teen tacked on hoping to come off as if he had manners.

"Yeah, we're done. You have your schedule?" Stefan held up the piece of paper. "You're going to need all your teachers to sign that and then drop it off with my assistant Mrs. Barnes. Also, Rico Byers will be your student guide for the day. Listen to what he says and he'll answer any questions you may have. If you need to talk to anyone about anything, and you don't feel like going to your brother, you can come see me."

_Yeah, not gonna happen_, Stefan mused, and then finally rose from his seat and exited the principal's office. With his luck that probably won't be his last time having to grace the man with his presence.

Stefan spotted Rico Byers by the door literally fidgeting and trying not to come off as if he were scared out of his mind. The younger Salvatore quickly sized him up. Rico probably stood no taller than five-six, five-seven at the most and probably didn't even come close to weighing a hundred and twenty-five pounds. He had emo hair, brown eyes, a scrawny neck, and his clothes drowned him. Not a threat whatsoever.

"Rico Byers," Stefan's voice boomed over the quiet murmuring of the front office. It made the boy jump out of his skin.

"H-hey," Rico cleared his throat and tried again to sound unflappable. "Hey. Stefan Salvatore?"

"The one and only," Stefan stretched out his hand for a handshake. Rico followed through with a surprisingly strong grip. "Nice to meet a fellow servant of Principal Greenberg's."

"Thanks, I think," Rico's brow furrowed. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Mr. Salvatore would you?" he asked.

"He's my older and aggravating brother."

"Wow, you two look nothing alike. Sorry," the guide flushed to his roots.

"Don't worry about it. I question his legitimacy all the time. So, you gonna show me around or what? Time's wasting," Stefan snapped his fingers.

Nervously, Rico straightened his spine and led Stefan out of the office and into the cluttered halls. Several people swiveled their gazes his way. Girls began joining together in groups and clusters, blushing, cheesing, and speculating to one another on where he came from and thanking their lucky stars he decided to transfer to their school. Some tried to rack their brains wondering if he went to their rival school in the county over, thinking they may have seen him before yet nothing sprang to mind. It was more than obvious he was fresh meat, new bait to hook to their lines, reel him in and devour until nothing was left save his boxer shorts they'd promptly turn into a trophy on their mantle. Stefan didn't mind the adoration so long as things didn't get out of hand.

One of the first things he did after being released was bury himself balls deep in Alicia, one of the waitresses at the Crawfish bar, releasing months and years of pent up stress and frustration. Having sex in a controlled and heavily monitored environment took precision and often weeks of planning. Stefan said so long to his virginity at the ripe age of fifteen with a fellow co-ed inmate whose name he could barely remember in a room where they administered electro-shock treatments. It had been morbid and thrilling, and they had the help of an orderly that made it a semi-memorable night for Stefan.

Now that he was free and able to screw anything he liked, Stefan was on the fence if he wanted to be out there and spread himself around, or be shrewd. In his opinion, sex was one of the best medicines out there. The serotonin, adrenaline, and other chemicals released worked much better at killing pain than the addictive barbiturates and narcotics that flew out of pharmacies. However, he had to admit it was a temporary distraction from mental strife.

Nevertheless, his guide Rico droned on and on about what quadrant of the school they were now standing in and what classes were taught on which floor. It was just an endless drivel of shit that didn't interest Stefan in the least. Briefly he thought of that girl he almost got into an argument with in the parking lot. Beautiful, sexy, unafraid of him. She had an advantage though, bearing in mind she didn't know the truth about him.

Stefan wondered if she were an upper or underclassman and if they might have a class together if she were the former. Stefan, at this precise moment, preferred to have her than Rico as a guide because then it wouldn't be much of an act pretending he was actually _here_.

Groaning, Stefan spotted Damon at the end of the hall and was prepared to make a beeline elsewhere, but he didn't move because his brother was talking to that girl.

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the girl appeared to be discussing an assignment or test with Damon and she didn't look too pleased with her grade. Unbeknownst to Stefan, a corner of his mouth began to lift in a smirk, and then he was smiling from ear-to-ear as Damon's expression began to illustrate his frustration, and color slowly rose up his neck.

Rico finally took a breath and realized Stefan had stopped following him and was gawking down the hall. The first person he spotted was Mr. Salvatore, but then brown eyes landed on Bonnie.

"Who's that girl?" Stefan asked aloud.

"Bonnie Bennett. Co-captain of the Lady Timberwolves, nice voice, ah…pretty awesome…"

Stefan turned and examined Rico and spotted the guy's cheeks turning a horrible shade of red. He snorted. "Guess that means you're in love with her."

"What?" Rico blurted, mortified. "N-no. Any guy probably would but ah…I mean, she's beautiful and smells really nice and she's smart, and…and…" he stuttered, took a deep breath and blew it out. "She's okay."

"Right," Stefan muttered skeptically and looked back down the hall.

"I don't know what else or how else to explain this to you, Miss Bennett," Damon bit out through clenched teeth, "but you should have done a tad bit more research in order to back up your argument. Wikipedia doesn't know everything."

Bonnie's nostrils flared. A lot of her classmates might have turned to that website in order to bullshit their way through a research assignment, but Bonnie did her research the old fashioned way by looking at printed journals, and investigative magazines. She wanted to bop Mr. Salvatore on the head for destroying her hard work with his stupid red ink pen and giving her a D+ for her efforts. And what made things even worse, he didn't offer up any suggestions for improvement, nor did he even give a hint as to why he marked her paper about the rise in nanotechnology the way he did. More than likely, it probably went over his head forcing him to think for once and he didn't like it.

"With all due respect, _Mr. Salvatore_ I don't use Wikipedia and you'd know that if you took the time out of your lollygagging to check my sources and see they're legit. You didn't offer up any kind of constructive criticism…"

"That is not true!" Damon simmered down after receiving strange looks from passing students and fellow teachers. "Look I'm not going to stand in the middle of this hall and argue with you about this paper. No makeups. That's my rule. This grade is final and I suggest you try harder next time, Bonnie. Now get to class," he marched off getting the last word.

Bonnie cursed him out in her head and proceeded down the hall, seething.

The other girls on this campus might allow Mr. Salvatore's dashing good looks to override his faultiness as a teacher, but Bonnie rarely allowed Mr. Salvatore to attempt to get over on her. Though she pretty much figured her relevant arguments fell on deaf ears about sixty to seventy percent of the time, it didn't make her stop trying from being heard.

He could avoid her for now, but not for long because she had him for eighth period today, and if she couldn't go home happy, then neither would he.

Bonnie's head still traveled in circles as she thought over her scores on the Leeds-Meyers test and the fact she was a contender for an annual scholarship, but that rose in contradiction with the fact she was struggling in several of her classes, and her rising duties as co-captain of the cheer squad, and treasurer of DECA, the business club, Bonnie's year was already beginning to suck, and she felt in over her head.

Just as she looked down the hall, Bonnie caught a sighting of that new guy and frowned. Ignoring him she headed off to her locker to shove her desecrated paper into its abyss hoping to never see it again. Moments later she was joined by one of her best friends Kira Yukimara who had her face buried in the horoscope section of the newspaper.

Kira like always dressed as if she were on her way to a K-Pop concert. Plaid skirt, high tops, cute camisole with her one-of-a-kind leather jacket. Her glossy black hair fell mid-way down her back in loose curls, and Kira kept her makeup simple. Black liner paying homage to her dark brown, slanted eyes, pink gloss on her lips, and perfectly arched brows.

She and Bonnie had been best friends since junior high. Kira was the shy one of the bunch, but also the silent enforcer. Her passive-aggressiveness was legendary and sparked a grudgingly respect from their peers. Being only a handful of minorities who called Mystic Falls home, Kira and Bonnie forged a bond of putting those in their place if they ever tried to hurl any derogatory stereotypes at them. They experienced things only they could truly understand and commiserate with the other on. Their loyalty ran deep, but it didn't mean they always saw eye-to-eye or agreed with the other's life decisions.

Kira pressed her back against the set of lockers beside Bonnie's and read aloud. "'New energies emerge as you find yourself the center of controversy. What was once familiar will begin to take on the shape of a prison, but if you allow yourself to be open to the journey that lies ahead, you will not only learn about what you can withstand, but what you can't live without.' Deep."

Bonnie chuckled dryly, "Seems like you have your work cut out for you today."

"Oh, that wasn't my horoscope. That was yours," Kira folded the newspaper into a rectangle and placed it inside her bag. "Makes me curious on what kind of controversy you'll be in the middle of."

"If it means getting caught necking some boy in the backseat of my dad's car, that's about all the controversy a girl like me can get herself into in a small place like this."

"Well, there's always pregnancy," Kira offered. Bonnie stared at her drolly. "So have you seen that new guy? Everyone has been talking about him. No one has been this excited since Mr. Salvatore started working here."

"Ugh, let's not talk about him, please," Bonnie lamented. "And I saw the new guy, all right," she closed her locker. "The bastard almost ran me over with his car after I left Principal Greenberg's office."

"Ouch," Kira made a face but then she began to look dreamy and Bonnie knew what was coming next, "Did you get his number?"

"No," Bonnie screeched. "I think you've forgotten that I'm trying to hook up with your brother and have his babies."

Kira feigned as if she were throwing up, "I'd really wish you'd set your standards a little higher, Bonnie. Hiro is not all that."

"Lies! Let me be the judge."

"Be the judge of what?" Caroline Forbes arrived, handbag on her arm looking perfectly put together in her royal blue maxi dress, blonde curls, and superb makeup. "Are you two hussies conspiring about boys without me?"

"No," Kira and Bonnie denied simultaneously.

Caroline firmly planted herself in the middle as the trio began to advance down the hall. "Anyways," the blond began, "this is what I've been able to find out about the new guy so far. His name is Stefan, and get this Mr. Salvatore is his older brother."

"Okay now I'm definitely intrigued," Kira said. "Keep going."

For her part, Bonnie said nothing only listened.

"Stefan isn't a stranger to Mystic Falls per se. His family lived here up until he turned three before moving to New York, but according to Jeanine whose grandmother used to work for the family, Stefan would spend summers with his Uncle Zach at the boardinghouse until he was like eleven or twelve, and then…he just disappeared."

"No one just disappears," Bonnie entered the conversation. "And if he spent summers with Zach Salvatore why don't I remember him? The boardinghouse isn't that far outside of town. We would have seen him at some point."

"I'm not sure," Caroline shrugged. "You know they're a private family. We only see Zach when the Founder's events pop up and ooh we need to have a confab immediately because nominations for homecoming court are right around the corner."

Kira and Bonnie leaned back to share a look with one another. Caroline was one of those characters who could hardly stay on one subject for long. She was the undisputed social director of their core group of friends. Very little happened without Caroline being aware of it and spreading the news around as if she were a journalist which is what she hoped to be if she didn't make it as an actress in Hollywood first. Being an only child like Bonnie, Caroline demanded attention and delegated orders as if she hailed from a long line of monarchs. And though she had a tendency to be self-centered, underneath her vapid-ness, was a girl who'd do anything within her arsenal of power for her friends.

"Despite that," Caroline continued, "it's also rumored that Stefan Salvatore was released from a psychiatric center in upstate New York, and not three weeks ago lived in a halfway house in northern Virginia. But here's the kicker, no one knows why he was in a psychiatric center. Weird, right?"

More than weird Bonnie thought as a shiver of something disturbing ran down her spine. What was it Kira read in her horoscope. Right. She'd be the center of controversy. Well not if she could help it.

"So when I can expect my invitation in the mail?" Kira elbowed Caroline.

"No later than November. We're having a June wedding."

Bonnie snorted.

The girls split off on their separate ways to their next class.

::::

The weather had warmed up considerably and Stefan figured he wouldn't be able to walk around in his leather jacket for much longer without coming off like a weirdo. He was sure Principal Greenberg would more than likely take offense to his tattoos, but they were here to stay and he couldn't exactly hide them.

And speaking of hiding, Stefan decided to utilize the football field to eat his lunch. Too many eyes watched him as he strolled down the hallways and it more than unnerved him, it irritated the fucking hell out of him. Being in an environment where those around him stared off into space because of the copious amount of drugs being funneled into their system, to being dumped in a literal fishbowl gave Stefan hives. He didn't think he was cut out for this so soon. Yet the mandate stated he didn't have a choice.

Taking one final bite of his pastrami on rye, Stefan fished out his meds and pursed his lips.

He didn't need them. Better yet he didn't want to take them. No matter what the psychiatrist said, Stefan hadn't been born with a chemical imbalance. He had been angry _that day _and anger ran through the blood of all Salvatore's regardless of sex. Sometimes that anger manifested into fists striking skin, leading the way to internal hemorrhaging and concussions. Or sometimes, that anger led to blacking out, coming to and finding ones hands covered in blood and brain matter.

Shaking his head, Stefan stashed the pill bottle back into his satchel, grabbed his trash, and stomped down the bleachers. He did all of that just in time because the bell sounded bringing his twenty-five minutes of solitude to an end.

The only thing Stefan could take some comfort in was the fact he was headed for his last class of the day. That comfort, however, soon dissipated once he realized the last class was Current Events and his teacher was none other than his brother.

Grimacing, Stefan found the classroom easily enough, quickly slipped inside hoping Damon hadn't seen him. Luckily, big bro was holding counsel with another female student who looked far less pissed off than Bonnie Bennett did, Stefan noted.

The woman in question walked toward classroom 209 feeling the weight of oppression on her back. After her run-in with Mr. Salvatore this morning she didn't want to have to look at his face for the next hour and a half, yet there was no getting around it. And she did make a promise he wouldn't go home happy so Bonnie knew she had to be a woman of her word.

Her trepidation, nevertheless, lessened once the object of her affection came into view.

Hiro Yukimara was probably the sexiest guy on campus in Bonnie's biased opinion. His features were similar to his sister's: midnight hair, slanted and hooded dark brown eyes that nearly looked black, olive skin, but it was his mouth and impressive body which were Bonnie's favorite things about him. Hiro was not what Bonnie would classify as a smooth talker or a wannabe playboy. He garnered his fair share of female adoration, but most shied away from actually approaching him.

Bonnie would admit Hiro was intimidating. He notoriously wore an impassive expression which made him categorically hard to read. Even if he were bursting with happiness, there would be no telltale sign to suggest he was anything other than severely displeased with all things concerning life. But in those rare moments he did smile, his rigidity melted away and in its place remained sublime handsomeness.

"Hey, Hiro," Bonnie said once their paths intersected in the hall. He looked at her and inclined his head, smirked a little, and kept it moving. Inside, Bonnie squealed. Hiro hardly ever acknowledged anyone, but he did for her. Kind of. Sort of.

Progress! Bonnie thought and entered her designated classroom. She did her best to keep her spirits right where they were even as she threw a glare at Mr. Salvatore who didn't see her.

Heading down her row since the man believed in assigned seating mostly because he was horrible at remembering names, Bonnie dumped her messenger bag at her seat but then realized a moment too late it was already occupied.

Green eyes crashed into grayish-green.

"You're in my seat," Bonnie blurted.

"Sorry. Didn't see your name on it."

Sighing, Bonnie cocked her hip and waited for the newbie to rise his ass out of her seat and find another one. When he continued to remain where he was, a prickling of anger began to stew inside the girl. So he was no different from his brother? Bonnie thought and tossed a look over her shoulder in Mr. Salvatore's direction. He unsurprisingly was staring at the both of them probably enjoying the show.

"We have assigned seating in this class and that's my desk," Bonnie pointed at said desk. "I'm sure your _brother _can appoint you your own. Now please, _move."_

"I see good news travels fast," Stefan reached for his satchel and decided to be nice and let the little shrimp have her seat before she turned old and gray.

Standing up there was hardly any space between them. Stefan didn't move forward nor did he step aside. His and Bonnie's clothes brushed one another's.

That nervous flutter went through Bonnie once more causing her to jerk back slightly after craning her neck and finding herself being lost in the prism of those eyes. Behind the cockiness was something veiled. For a hot second it drew Bonnie's curiosity to the surface. She wondered what his story was.

"Stefan…Bonnie…if you're done having eye sex with one another can you please take your seats? I'd like to begin my class."

Snickers erupted and Bonnie's cheeks turned hot. Lowering her head until her face was covered with her hair, she scurried into her seat and threw a nasty look at Mr. Salvatore and his inappropriate comment.

Stefan for his part refrained from throwing up his middle finger. Merely grit his teeth and found another vacant seat in the room far from that chick. Slipping his jacket off, the snickers soon quieted until it was graveyard silent in the room. Right, his sleeve tattoo, he rolled his eyes.

"What?" Stefan barked at the classroom at large and folded his lean frame into the desk.

Many of his fellow students quickly averted their orbs or found something else to occupy their time.

Damon shook his head and sat down on the edge of his desk. "Class, I'd like you all to meet our new student and my little brother, Stefan. Raise your hand so they can gaze at your glory," he mocked.

_I'm going to kill you when you get home, asshole, _Stefan visually made that promise to his grinning older brother, threw his arm quickly in the air, and slouched in his seat.

Bonnie couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that his entire arm was covered in tattoos. So many that not even a sliver of skin could be seen. Normally she didn't go for guys that had too much ink. A tattoo here or there was perfectly permissible, but an entire limb? She didn't think so but on the new guy…

She unconsciously trapped a corner of her lip beneath her teeth unable to look away.

Stefan felt eyes on him and peered a little over his shoulder and caught Bonnie gnawing on her lip. His lips quirked up a bit and he winked.

Bonnie's face fell flat and she frowned. _Don't get any ideas._

Facing forward once more, Stefan's opinion about his last class being the worst might not be so accurate after all.

**A/N: What did we think? Thank you all so much for being patient with me and for reading. **


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